


Useful

by bluedooratthebeach



Series: Dream Journal [1]
Category: Original Work
Genre: F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Brainwashing, Manipulation, Medical Kink, Non-Consensual Body Modification, Vomiting, Whump, soft torture????
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-04
Updated: 2021-02-04
Packaged: 2021-03-13 07:27:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,124
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29149707
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluedooratthebeach/pseuds/bluedooratthebeach
Summary: It's been a year since the Corporatocracy has been dismantled by a group of ragtag rebels whose only goal was to save the oppressed.  But it's strange how trauma works.  Not everyone wants to be saved.
Relationships: Original Female Character/Original Male Character
Series: Dream Journal [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2139624
Kudos: 8





	Useful

**Author's Note:**

> Okeedokee. So you saw the Pedro Pascal tag and thought hey. What the fuck is Pedro Pascal doing in my dystopian fic? Well, I'll tell you. This is the transcription of a weird dream I had and I knew without a shadow of a doubt that Solomon (you'll see) was played by Pedro Pascal. What does this mean for you? Nothing, but you can imagine that it is Pedro Pascal if you wish. What does this mean for me? It means that I, a person who has never found that man attractive, am now OBSESSED with that man. He's slowly taking over my whole brain so I had to get this out of my system somehow. Anyway, enjoy??

It was supposed to be a dentist’s appointment, which means it was an idiotic move to not immediately turn and run the second I saw the scalpels on the table. Why the  _ fuck  _ (and I mean that with more emphasis than you think) would there be scalpels involved in an x-ray and cleaning? When I think about the situation I ended up in, I tell myself that it’s mostly my fault for not using my thinking skills and running the first time that sticky feeling settled in the bottom of my chest. I let the nurse direct me to the reclining padded chair. She had a soft, sympathetic smile and such lovely eyes. I guess it’s not entirely my fault. I felt safe with her. And it was just meant to be a cleaning. I think it’s easier to deal with everything if I think it was my fault, though, so we’ll stick with that instead.

I leaned back in the chair as she checked some machinery and clipped a heart monitor to my finger. It was another red flag that I should have picked up on, but I didn’t because the nurse was telling me about her five-year-old daughter and asking me where I was going to college. 

We chatted a little more as she pulled out an iv needle and asked me for my arm. I laid it out on the armrest.

“Alright a small pinch,” she said softly and patted my arm reassuringly. This was the part that I knew was wrong. I’d had my teeth cleaned twice a year since I could remember, and it had never involved an iv. She hooked up the iv and pushed something into the port on the catheter.

“What’s with the iv?” I finally managed to ask. The nurse smiled at me, with those big brown eyes filled to the brim with overwhelming sadness. It clenched at my heart, and I opened and closed my mouth several times.

“What’s… what’s in…” my tongue was heavy, and it was harder to keep my eyes open. The whole thing would be so much easier if I just closed my eyes. The last thing I remember was the nurse holding my hand tight like she was afraid to let me go.

***

It took me a while to wake up. I opened my eyes once I decided the lights were too bright and could do with some more sleep. The second time I woke up, someone turned the lights off, and I was very aware of the overall soreness covering my body from head to foot. My chest and torso were sore, and when I went to sit up in the chair, my stomach clenched on superficial pain.

I blinked slowly and looked around the room. It was a different room than before. There was no sink in the corner, and the posters detailing different tooth decay types were gone. All there was now were two sets of curtains on either side, cordoning me off from what may have been more beds. The door to a dimly lit hallway was slightly ajar, and I could hear several pairs of feet walking towards me. This is the only time where I did something right, I believe. When I heard their voices, I fell back against the chair and put all of my efforts into forcing my breath to come out in long even sighs. I closed my eyes.

“Oh, for fucks sake, is she still out?” 

“It was a shit ton of anesthetic. I don’t blame her. I wouldn’t want to wake up either.”

“Don’t go soft Parker. She wouldn’t be here if she didn’t deserve it and you know it.”

“I know, I know. I just hate the intelligence test… they’re just… it’s hard to see you know?”

“I think it’s kind of hot.”

There was a pause. For a second, I was afraid that they somehow knew that I was awake.

“What? Are you one of those anti-usefulness people, Parker?”

There was more silence, and I realized with a great deal of relief that they were not paying attention to me at all.

“I think it’s inhumane. They’re taking perfectly fine people, useful people, and turning them into slaves.”

“They like it.”

“Because they’re programmed to! They don’t get a say in whether or not they even enjoy what’s happening to them. It’s rape.”

“It’s not rape.”

“It’s literally rape.”

“It’s not just sex Parker. They do other things too. There are laborers and medicinals. And they’re all perfectly happy to do it.”

“Medicinals is just human testing which is absolutely inhumane, I don’t care how you spin it. They don’t know any better than to be happy to do it. I didn’t become a surgeon for this. I wanted to save people.”

“You are. Otherwise they’d end up on the streets starving and begging.”

There was more silence, and I realized they were leaving the room. After their steps faded away, I cracked my eyes open. I didn’t think there was anyone else, so I sat up. There were so many thoughts running through my head, but the only thing I could think of was that word they had said. That ugly word had rammed its way into the back of my throat, and I could feel my breaths coming in faster and faster. I had to get out of that stupid room before they came back and finished the job. 

My feet hurt when they first touched down on the ground. They were swollen, and I swayed from side to side as I made my way to the door. I was barefoot, and the only clothes I had on were a paper gown and underwear. 

I gripped onto the doorframe and stopped for a breath. Everything hurt. My head pounded, and my sides itched. My vision swam with tears as I tried to decide which way to run. Parker and the other doctor had walked to the left, so it would make sense to go right. Right. So I ran or hobbled, I suppose, with my hand trailing the wall so I wouldn’t keel right over. I turned a corner, then another, and I don’t think I had been walking for more than two minutes when an angry alarm sounded. I heard voices and running feet further down the hall in front of me. My heart lurched in my chest while I looked around for somewhere to hide. I was too scared to turn back in fear of the first two doctors, and the thought of running towards the sound of people running was physically impossible. I turned the knobs of the doors that lined the hall until one of them clicked open and dropped me into a crowded supply closet. The door clicked behind me as I pushed myself as far as I could into the gauze and rubber gloves. I hugged my knees to my chest as the sticky feeling spread to my head, and I let myself cry. 

It is the most terrible feeling in the world to feel vulnerable and hopeless, and utterly alone. I missed my mother and my father, and my little brothers. I cursed the dentistry industry and the government, and everyone else I could think of. 

I must not have cried as quietly as I had tried to because a second later, I saw a shadow at the bottom of the door, and as the knob clicked quietly, I started to cry harder. It was coming faster and louder as the panic of a cornered animal crept in. The door opened and revealed the backlit figure of a man. I pushed myself against the wall as hard as I could, my feet sliding against the ground. The man squatted down and held out his hand.

He was dressed nicely in a pale yellow suit. He had thick dark hair on his head and a scruffy mustache under his nose. But he had kind brown eyes, and that was what stuck out to me the most. My track record with people who have kind eyes should clue you in on what happens next. 

“Oh shhhh little one,” he cooed and stepped closer. I whimpered (it was embarrassing) and slammed my head against the wall to getaway. He clucked in disapproval and frowned at me. It shouldn’t have made me feel as bad as it did.

“Oh my poor lovely girl. You must be so terrified right now aren’t you.”

I stilled, my breathing coming in slower. Maybe this whole thing was a mistake. Maybe he was just going to apologize and take me home. I nodded slowly. He looked so sad for me right then that I wanted to go to him, so sure he could fix it.

“Why don’t you come on out from there and we can sort this out? You’ve just had a major operation little one. You must be in so much pain.”

When he said it, I realized it was true. Everything hurt ten times worse once its existence was acknowledged. Tears threatened to overflow as I felt that all over ache intensify. I hadn’t been able to take in the full extent of what had been done to me. I slid forward a little.

“Come on now, we can give you some lovely pills to make the pain go away.”

Fear flooded my brain, and I scrambled backward.

“No!” I cried out, “No more drugs, please don’t give me more drugs.”

“Alright, alright,” he soothed quickly, “No drugs little one. No more drugs. You can trust me, I won’t let anyone hurt you sweetheart.”

I think those might have been the magic words. That promise of protection and… care, I suppose. It calmed whatever immediate panic had built up inside of me, and I reached out to take his hand. He gently pulled me to my feet and out of the closet. As soon as I was standing, I dropped his hand and stood away from him, but I didn’t run. I should have. Or, maybe it didn’t matter. Everything would have happened anyway. They definitely would have caught me. Or maybe that’s another excuse. I’m not sure anymore. 

What I do know is that I followed him as he led me through the halls of what I had been pretty sure was some sort of medical facility, but from the extensive offices and meeting rooms, I was beginning to think otherwise. We met a group of frantic looking people standing in a group. A tall woman in a black pantsuit and red stilettos marched towards him. She didn’t even look at me.

“Solomon! Thank god you found her. We almost had to call a lockdown of the facility and then corporate would have had a cow. The bitch could have lost us all our jobs.” I wanted to hide behind the man, Solomon. My stomach was hurting, and my brain was pounding in my skull. I had never been called a bitch like that either. Her words weren’t hateful like I had pissed her off. It was almost… inconsequential. I was an annoyance in her day.

“No need to cause an upset. She’s alright now. No damage done. Little one’s just had a terrible day.”

“Well now that you’ve found her we can rectify the situation. I checked the records and the dipshits in surgery completely forgot the brain operation.”

The second anything medical came up, my stomach lurched, and I grasped Solomon’s sleeve.

“I think going to be sick,” I said, gasping for breath.

They rushed me to a bathroom. The woman had said I couldn’t be alone, but I begged and promised not to do anything. I didn’t want anyone to see me vomiting, but it didn’t matter because seconds later, I was kneeling in front of the toilet, gagging around something. It didn’t feel like normal sick, and when I looked into the toilet bowl, I saw white jelly-like spheres floating on the surface of the water.

“What  _ is  _ that,” I sobbed and clutched the sides of the toilet. Fresh tears spilled over my cheeks, and I pushed my head into the crook of my arm. I felt a large warm hand press tenderly at the back of my head. Fingers brushed the hair out of my face, and I leaned back into the soft touches.

“It’s normal. It’s a side effect of the operation. I know it’s scary.”

“It hurts,” I whined. He shushed me stroked my hair.

“I know. I know. But you’re doing so well.”

He let me sit for a little while longer before he started pulling me gently towards the sink. The woman pushed a paper cup of water into my hands. She still looked so angry at me. After I rinsed my mouth out, I looked at my reflection in the mirror and jerked backward. I hadn’t seen what had been done to me before now, but now that I could see it, I felt nausea creeping up my throat. My chest was covered in bandages, and my stomach was tighter like they had pulled the skin taut across the surface. I wasn’t as soft as I was before, or I could tell I wouldn’t be once the swelling had gone down. Panic rose once more as I struggled to understand.

“Deep breaths little one,” Solomon said gently and brushed a tear from my face.

“What’s happened to me?” I choked and touched my face. There were deep bruises underneath my eyes.

“Nothing terrible,” he sighed and gestured for me to follow him, “I’ll show you.”

“Solomon, we need—“ 

Solomon cut the woman off with a stare. He still smiled, but his eyes lost all their kindness. It was terrifying, and I decided that I never wanted to be on the receiving end of that stare.

“We have a meeting to attend, correct?” 

“Yes but she can’t—“

“Move it. Or cancel it. Find us a board room and pull up the introductory video.”

“You can’t be serious Solomon.”

Solomon didn’t respond. He only placed a hand on the small of my back and started moving me towards an empty room. He sat down in one of the rolly chairs and pulled one out next to him. He gestured for me to sit down. Cautiously, I took a seat. The woman loaded up a video on one of the projectors that explained what had happened. Images of body parts that were increased or decreased in size, lots of words that I, was a journalism major, didn’t understand, and finally, the explanation of the brain. It was a process of reprogramming, a woman’s smooth, pleasant voice explained. The process increased pleasure in tasks that were desirable for the beneficiary to accomplish and lower inhibitions. Thoughts and learning skills would be decreased to the bare minimum, just enough to accomplish the goals set by the benefactor.

Before the video ended, I was shaking and trying not to cry again. I thought the woman would hit me if I started at it again, and I really didn’t want to tempt her. 

“Please,” I said, voice cracking. Solomon turned to look at me. His eyes held nothing but concern.

“Please don’t take my brain.”

The prospect of not being capable of conscious thought and learning… it was too much. I wanted to run again. I didn’t know what to do. I pressed my palms into my eyes. I was exhausted, and all I wanted to do was take a pain reliever and go to sleep.

“Please don’t make me like that,” was all I could say, over and over again. I didn’t stop until I felt hands underneath my legs and behind my back as I was pulled into Solomon’s lap. He tenderly worked the tangles out of my hair and pressed his nose into my hair.

“No one will mess with your thoughts little one,” he whispered, “As long as you’re good and do as you’re told, there will be no harm done to you. Not while I’m here.”

I could hear the underlying threat in his message. Don’t fuck up. Don’t argue with me. Do exactly what I tell you, and then we won’t have a reason to force you into anything. I knew that was what he was saying, and I knew that if I accepted it, I would be sealing my fate irrevocably. Perhaps forever.

Even knowing all of this, all I wanted was to be comforted. I wanted to have someone tell me everything was going to be okay and that I was safe. God help me, I wanted to be held. Solomon was offering me protection, comfort, and what sometimes even felt like love. 

I turned my face into his chest and let myself cry as hard as I had in the closet, maybe harder, and he just sat there holding me to him, shushing me and telling me how brave and lovely I was. I ended up gripping the lapels of his suit and pulling as much of him to me as possible. By the time my breath evened out, my eyes were swollen and drooping, and my body felt heavy. 

“I’m so tired,” I managed as I settled my cheek on his shoulder. He pets my head and lays gentle kisses on my hairline. I let him. 

“Go to sleep little one. No one will harm you now. You’re safe with me.”

And he was right for the most part. He didn’t hurt me except for the time I tried to run away, and when he did, he always had someone else do it, like the woman or another doctor. He would always come in after it was over, looking so sad and disappointed. I never wanted to be the reason he felt like that. Ever. I didn’t even know he was a board member of the corporation, okay? He only ever wanted to dote on me, and he never actually  _ wanted _ to hurt me. It wasn’t until I met that kid— you know, the one I’ve seen around here. The spoke person or whatever. It wasn’t until I met him that things became dangerous. I’m not sure who to blame, Solomon, the nurse, myself. But when everything hurts very badly, and I miss my parents and sisters— he had them killed, you know— I blame that shithead. Yeah, I know, I know. It’s a revolution. Death to the corporation or whatever. Jesus. Sometimes I wish it was death to me. But instead, you keep pulling me out of whatever heavily medicated sleep it is you’ve got me and asking me questions before I attack someone, and you put me back under.

Yeah. Some kind of therapy this is.


End file.
